The Relict (Book 1): Drawing Blood (10 page)

Around the circle, almost everyone reacted with a sense of recognition. They all realized that Matt was right; the cadaver van was the only vehicle allowed into the main compound to pick up any dead bodies, then it would leave the camp to dispose of the corpses.

“My plan puts me in a body bag in the cadaver van, riding out of the compound, out of the camp, then at the perfect time jumping out to begin getting the resources we’ll need for the second, bigger escape involving all of the prisoners. And then at the end of the day I hitch a ride on the bloodmobile, getting back to the camp before any of the goons even know that I’ve been gone.”

He looked around and saw a lot of positive reaction to his plan. But Matt also saw a few faces that didn’t look so convinced.

One of the naysayers was Barrett, and he was the first to speak. “Look, I admit; what you’re pitching is a real plan. But c’mon, how stupid do you think we are? We help you get out of here on the cadaver van; we’re supposed to be standing in the main compound with our dicks in our hands, waiting for you to come back…?”

Matt didn’t hesitate with a response. “Yeah, that’s right. All except for the dicks in your hands part.”

“We help this guy escape,” said Grouse, “we won't even get a postcard. And then we’ll be the ones doing the payback to the vampires.”

Juarez chimed in as well. “I hate to agree with Grouse twice in an hour, but I totally am seeing things his way…”

The gathering of prisoners all started to grunt with agreement, until Tyra joined Matt back in the middle of the circle.

“What if I and someone else rolled with you during the first escape?”

There was no need for Matt to look around to verify that it was either he went along with Tyra’s suggestion, or there was no chance his plan would get any support.

“As long as you… all of you, are willing to do what it takes to make sure we’ve got… three body bags.”

She knew what that meant if Matt was being sincere and not just trying to scare her off.“What do you think everybody? What if Juarez and I go with Matt for the first escape? Would everyone be cool with that?”

All around the circle there seemed to be a general positive reaction to Tyra’s suggestion. Until Murphy spoke up.

“This guy is gonna get us killed.”

Murphy looked around the stall.

“I can’t believe I’m the only one feeling this way.”

Barrett took a few steps toward Murphy, which only caused the objecting prisoner to take a few steps back in response.

“I hear you. Believe me I do. From day one I have not been a fan of this mercenary jackal, but if he's willing to go with Ty and Juarez...”

“No, you're not hearing me! Listen to me, none of you should trust this guy,” said Murphy. “Look at him. Stop looking at me and look at him… don’t you see what I see? He’s on a suicide mission, and he’s trying to grab as many people to join him before he crash-and-burns.”

“As long as we’re talking about crashing and burning, what the hell happened with you and your Wall Street buddies, Chast and Tulliver?” asked Juarez.

Murphy did not hesitate with his answer, though his explanation sounded a bit rehearsed.

“There was a plan. It ended up being a bad plan. And they died. What I want to know is why hasn’t anyone come up to me and congratulated me about making the right call?”

Barrett looked around, before being the first to respond.

“Maybe because congratulating you would be like exchanging high fives at the airport after you missed a flight that crash-landed.”

“Or worse,” said Chong. “I heard the plan needed three men to fly the plane, but someone who was supposed to be in the cockpit grabbed a parachute and bailed.”

Murphy’s face turned beet red. He slowly started to move backwards, even though no one was moving toward him.

“There’s a reason I’m still alive,” he mumbled to the group.

“Yeah, for sure,” said Juarez. “Hey, where are you going? Stick around. We’ll kick around some more reasons and then you can pick the one you want us all to believe.”

Several of the prisoners smiled.

“Fuck you. Fuck all of you. Believe what you want.”

Murphy then pointed at Matt. “There’s no way some hotshot is going to put my name on some lottery ticket.”

Tyra raised her hands and started to approach the now completely unhinged prisoner. “Where are you going, Murphy? You need to calm down…”

“Don’t even try to tell me what I need to do…,” he said, each word getting louder than the last, but then he backed right into a shower-stall wall and the impact scared him into falling silent.

“He’s right. Let him go.”

All the prisoners turned to verify the words were really coming from… Matt.

“No matter how good my plan is, it's a huge risk,” said Matt staring at Murphy. Then he turned to look, one by one at all the other prisoners. “Do me a favor, each one of you here – forget I even said anything.”

Murphy didn’t wait for any of the prisoners’ reaction to Matt’s request. Once the spotlight was no longer on him, he scrambled out of the shower stall and disappeared into the surrounding clouds of steam.

Tyra sidled up next to Matt with an incredulous look on her face.

“Just like that… you're punking out?

“No, I’m still in.” Matt then turned to look at Tyra… and the rest of the group of prisoners. “And hopefully all of you are still in as well. It's Murphy who is out. Now we have to wait and see what that might mean to our plans…”

Chapter Seventeen

Murphy was standing at the end of the second row during the second head count.

All Matt and Tyra could see from the fifth row was the balding back of Murphy’s head. Nonetheless, Matt was convinced the former Wall Street analyst had something on his mind. Murphy had spent the entire roll call looking all around the compound as if he were the star of a grade-school play and was trying to locate his parents in the audience.

“166 men present and accounted for, sir.”

“Dismiss them,” the security supervisor told Williams.

“Okay, you’re all dismissed until the next head count.”

The prisoners broke formation.

Matt and Tyra turned as if they were talking to each other, but both continued to keep an eye on Murphy, who stayed planted in his spot while all the other prisoners around him scattered in different directions.

“There’s Spector,” said Tyra.

Matt looked over. On the side of the compound, near the security-staff mess hall, the head of camp security was walking with another one of his goons.

“Perfect. Now we’ll get to see if I’m right… or just paranoid.

But then when both of them turned back…

Murphy was gone.

He was smoking a cigarette in the alley between the security-staff barracks and mess hall. Standing there, waiting for Spector to show up, Murphy couldn’t resist and opened up one of the three portable BBQs the goons used to cook on the weekends.

The inside of the grill smelled of cooked, red meat. He also caught the whiff of salmon.Murphy closed the BBQ lid the moment he saw a large figure appear at the mouth of the alleyway.

He stamped out his cigarette and rehearsed the first few lines he wanted to use to kick off his tip about a “rebel” being amongst the prisoners. Murphy knew enough about Spector that if his first few words didn’t come out right, the head of security might ignore everything else he had to say and dismiss him.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp jab in the small of his back, causing him to grimace and let out a small yelp.

He wheeled around to discover a football at his feet.

“How you doing, Murph…?”

Barrett came running up to him, clearly the one who had thrown the football.

“What are you doing here?” Murphy growled.

“A few of us are getting together for a game. I came to see if you wanted to play.”

Before Murphy could respond, a gravelly voice echoed between the two buildings. “What the fuck are you two doing in this area?”

“Oh, shit,” said Barrett under his breath, but loud enough for Murphy to hear, “looks like we might be in trouble.”

Spector pushed aside one of the potted plants next to a bamboo cocktail bar as he barked at both of the prisoners.

“I hope you two have an believable explanation for why you’re in a totally restricted area.”

“Actually, sir…,” Murphy began.

“We lost our football,” Barrett interrupted. He reached down and picked up the pigskin on the ground next to Murphy. “Sorry, but it’s the only football we have.”

Spector swept his hand across a wooden rack attached to the BBQ, sending all the stainless-steel tools flying.

“You both better get the hell out of here before I make you eat that football!”“Absolutely,” answered Barrett.

But Murphy protested. “But, sir, if you would just hear me out…”

Spector punched him in the chest.

Murphy collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.

The head of security turned to Barrett. “You better get him out of here this instant or you both will be donating an extra pint today.”

“Yes, sir,” said Barrett. He grabbed Murphy by the back of his fatigues and dragged him away.

The two emerged into the main compound with Barrett still dragging Murphy across the ground.

Murphy got a hold of his breath, dug his heels into the dirt, and after Barrett released him, awkwardly stood on his own.

“Wow, that was a close one,” said Barrett. He tossed Murphy the football.

Murphy initially fumbled the toss, but when he finally got ahold of the football, the prisoner threw it angrily across the compound.

Barrett watched Murphy storm off.

He turned to Matt and Tyra, standing nearby, and flashed an upside-down V with his index and middle fingers. It was the sign that they had all agreed on if someone saw Murphy trying to tell Spector about their meeting.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” said Tyra.

Matt didn’t say a word as he watched Murphy move slowly across the compound.

After his silence became unbearable, Tyra asked, “What are we going to do?”

“It’s my fault. I’ll take care of this problem.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

All he could do was nod.

“First of all, it’s not your fault. Second – there’s another option.”

He shook his head. “I wish there was. Believe me I’ve already thought about it. There is no other option.”

Her eyes, like Matt’s, were watching Murphy walking across the compound, headed to the barracks building.

“I’ve also thought about it, Matt. What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t have to be you.”

When Tyra approached Lincoln Grouse in the mess hall, he was mentally in the middle of planning the death of another prisoner.

“Hey, Lincoln, how is it going?”

Grouse was so startled to hear her voice, and then to see her sitting so close to him, he dropped his fork onto the floor. He bent over to pick up his utensil, but when he came back up he couldn’t look at her, nor could he even move.

“What you doing?”

“Relax. I need to talk to you.”

Grouse tried his best to start eating, as if Tyra’s presence in his space wasn’t freaking him out.

“Talk to me about what?”

“Killing someone.”

The scowl that Grouse had been wearing since – well, since he had become a prisoner – disappeared.

“Murphy.”

She looked away, almost embarrassed by how obvious what they were contemplating was… to a killer.

“Taking Murphy out makes a lot of sense. You should be proud. It’s the smartest thing I’ve heard you say since you’ve been here.”

Tyra used her plastic fork to poke and push at the food on her tray.

“Glad you approve, Lincoln. So I take it that you can make this happen?”

“Pretend you just emerged from a time machine and now you’re walking around. The first thing you’ll notice is that Murphy is dead.”

She kept poking at her food, afraid to look up and see the enthusiasm that was undoubtedly lighting up Grouse’s face.

“Wait a second. I need to know something,” said Grouse. “Is this coming from you? Or my bunkmate?”

Tyra looked over to Matt, sitting just a few tables away. He had been uneasy about Tyra approaching Grouse, and was watching to see what happened.

“It’s coming from both of us.”

“Really? So you’re saying he requested my services?”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

Grouse turned to Matt and gave him a nod.

“It’s not just us. Everyone at the meeting today is down for this.”

“Well, you’re all making me feel bad for all the shit I’ve been whispering behind your backs.”

He hoped she would laugh, because he intended it as a joke. But she didn’t even crack a smile.

“It needs to happen tonight. After we donate, everyone will head back to the barracks for a shower. Murphy is always one of the last to take his shower. Barrett, Juarez, and I will corral the other prisoners when the time is right. We’ll make sure you have the entire area to yourself.”

“Beautiful.”

He started to get up.

“Grouse…”

He drew a heavy breath and sat back down.

“There’s one more, very important detail…”

The noise of a dropped tray by one of the prisoners working behind the food service counter caught everyone’s attention in the mess hall… including Grouse. His face quickly settled into a fugue state, one that had a scowl attached to it.

“Grouse? Grouse…?”

The scowl on his face was still there when he looked over at her.

“You have a problem with someone serving the food? Who? Hoffman?”

“What’s it to you?” His voice was louder than a whisper and a few of the other prisoners looked over.

She moved closer to him before responding. “I’m asking for you to do something… something really important. But it looks like you can’t even keep your priorities straight. That’s what it is to me.”

Grouse wanted to explode at her words, but he managed to control himself. What Tyra was requesting was just too good for him to pass up. He picked up the rock-hard roll on his plate and stuffed it in his mouth before he could scream himself out of a job.

“What’s your problem with Hoffman?”

Once he managed to swallow some of the sourdough in his mouth, he answered her. “That son of a bitch tried to poison me.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I was in line for breakfast a week ago, and when it came to my turn, Hoffman suddenly decided to switch serving trays. He dished out my grub from this other steel container, then he closes the tray and goes back to serving the next guy in line from the other tray.”

“Maybe he was giving you the kosher meal,” said Tyra.

“I’m not a fucking Jew.”

“I was kidding,” said Tyra.

“So you think this is funny?”

She stood up.

“No, but listening to you makes me realize that our idea was a huge mistake.”

Tyra walked away from the table, and across the mess hall. Every step she took, she expected Grouse to stop her. But when she arrived at the garbage bins, dumped her meal into the trash, then exited the mess hall, the psycho prisoner had not budged from his spot on the bench.

Tyra was almost halfway across the compound when she heard Grouse’s voice.

“Wait up…”

He approached her with his head down.

“Look, what I said was true. Hoffman is trying to kill me…”

“What… I can’t hear you…”

Grouse lifted his head and locked eyes with her for a split second, before looking back down.

“I can put my beef with Hoffman in the freezer if it will make you happy.”

“Lincoln, none of this makes me happy. We’re all just interested in getting the hell out of here. Now are you a part of that, or what?”

He nodded.

“We’re going to need you to strangle him.”

It was a small man that made the humiliating walk across the compound. But now Tyra’s words allowed him to stand tall again, and meet her eyes with a face flushed with excitement.

“Did you say ‘strangled’?”

“Yes. The way he dies needs to match the scenario we’re planning for the first escape.”

“That will not be a problem. I have a soap-on-a-rope underneath my bunk. My kid gave it to me for Father’s Day five years ago. I’ve been waiting for the right time to use it.”

“That’s great…”

He started to walk away, but then turned around.

“Don’t you want to wish me luck?”

There were times in the Green Zone when some of the new arrivals would be frightened about some rocket fire or an explosion.

The other state-department personnel always elected Tyra to be the one to offer a warm hug and some comforting words. She usually said something like, “It’s going to be all right…,” or…, “this is going to be a piece of cake.”

Her last resort was to say, “Look at me; I’m still standing, right?”

Tyra’s effort usually settled the newbie down.

Now, standing in the middle of the compound, a warm hug was out of the question.

And any words of comfort or wishes of good luck would be redundant.

What Tyra had asked Grouse to do was like asking a fish to jump into the ocean and… swim.

But still, all she could think about was being free.

“Yeah, for sure, Lincoln. All of us wish you… good luck.”

Then Tyra looked around for a place to sit down, feeling completely unsteady on her feet.